


Curiosity

by Everyday_Im_Narrating



Category: Peter Pan (1953)
Genre: (not in a sexual context, F/M, Historical Inaccuracy, Macrophilia, Mentions of Blood, Microphilia, Object Insertion, Orgasm Delay/Denial, but that's just mentioned, gratuitous descriptions of fairy anatomy, peter also has sex with mermaids, sex with fairies, tinkerbell is just hurt but not badly)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 18:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everyday_Im_Narrating/pseuds/Everyday_Im_Narrating
Summary: Peter has always been curious about fairies and how their bodies work. When Tinkerbell gets in trouble and needs his help, he sees an opportunity to put his theories to the test.(Yes. I wrote human/fairy sex. I'm not sorry.)





	Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> Look, y’all. This is a weird fic. By far the weirdest I’ve ever written. I’ve had this plot in mind for like a year now, and just felt like sharing it with the world, alright? So look at the tags again. Carefully. And then decide if you wanna read this or not. Also, I know Peter is technically a “boy who never grew up”, but are we gonna argue about the legality and/or morality of a fictional magical being having sex with another fictional magical being? No, we’re not. We’re gonna read the weird porn, we’re gonna enjoy the weird porn, and then we’re gonna shamefully close the weird porn tab.

The problem with Tinkerbell is that she’s always getting into trouble. Especially since Wendy came along – whenever the fairy thinks Peter has been spending too much time with Wendy, she finds a way to grab his attention. At first, it’s kind of cute. Strokes Peter’s ego somewhat. Now, though, it’s more spiteful and annoying than anything else; Peter is determined to put a stop to it by just refusing to play her game.

That is, until he’s walking home from the latest adventure with the Lost Boys and notices a dim, faltering glow in the middle of a rose bush.

Fuck.

Sure enough, when he crouches by the bush, he finds Tink trying desperately to free herself from the tangle of little branches she’s somehow stuck in. Her little green dress is in tatters, her wings have been perforated several times by the thorns, and those same thorns have left numerous cuts all over her tiny fairy body; she doesn’t even seem to notice Peter’s face hovering above her as she fights off one branch but just ends up caught in another.

“Tink.” He calls, and still she seems far too busy to notice him. “ _Tinkerbell._ ”

Finally, the fairy looks up, and Peter’s heart aches a little when he sees her eyes – poor thing looks hurt and completely exhausted.

“Stay still, okay? I’ll get you out of there.”

She shakes her head vigorously and keeps on fighting, but one particularly sharp thorn rips yet another hole in her dress and pricks at her skin, making her wince despite what seems like a great effort not to. Peter isn’t going to argue with her – he’s known her long enough to know it’s useless. Instead, he carefully pulls a few branches apart with both hands, clearing a path for Tink to safely fly her way out of the bush.

Unsurprisingly, the injured wings make it difficult, but the fairy manages. As soon as she’s out, Peter grabs her and cradles her close to his chest; this time she doesn’t complain.

“How’d you end up in there, anyway?” Maybe it was another ploy to get his attention, but he doesn’t want to imagine that Tink would really go to these lengths. “Fighting another bug?”

Pressed tight up against him, she shakes her head, eyes half closed.

“Does it hurt?”

She nods.

“I’ll put some of Tiger Lily’s salve on you. It’s supposed to be pretty miraculous.”

Only when they get to Peter’s cozy little hut does he really take a good look at the state Tinkerbell is in. Curiously, he also notes that despite her skin being a glowing, otherworldly shade of green, fairy blood is just as red as any human’s – it’s an interesting detail he stores away in his brain while he sets her down on top of his desk. There’s so _much_ of it, though. On her arms, legs, neck. The wings don’t bleed, but the parts that have been damaged by the thorns don’t glow, either; the part of Peter that isn’t worried about his companion is wondering all kinds of questions about fairy anatomy.

It occurs to him briefly that for all the time they’ve known each other, he’s never seen Tink naked. He isn’t shy about his own body, and he’s lost count of how many times the fairy has seen him bathe or swim with no clothes on, but there hasn’t been any reciprocity on that front. Not that it bothers him. Tinkerbell values a bit of privacy, good on her. Doesn’t stop him from being curious, though, and right now he’s about to satisfy at least a bit of that curiosity.

“I’m gonna have to clean you up first. Some of the blood is starting to dry, it’ll be all sticky and gross.” He announces as he pours some water into a cup. “Can you take this off?”

There’s a little uncertainty in the fairy’s eyes, but she nods anyway. Really, it’s a wonder her dress stayed on for as long as it did; some parts of it just barely cling to Tink’s body and rip like a flower petal once she peels it off and tosses it aside.

(Fairy anatomy, as it turns out, seems almost identical to a human’s, just on a smaller scale. Besides the wings and the glow emanating from her skin, everything seems pretty much exactly the same. For some reason, Peter used to think fairies laid eggs, but Tink’s panties got lost somewhere in the rose bush and now he has a clear view of her entire body – essentially a tiny adult woman with diaphanous wings sticking out of her back. Curiouser and curiouser.)

Not that he’s focusing on that. He just has to clean his friend up before he can apply the magical salve that Tiger Lily gave him.

She’s pretty, though, he’ll admit that.

He picks her up gently and dunks her into the cup as if it’s tea and she’s a cookie; the analogy makes him laugh a little to himself and distracts from the sight of Tinkerbell, all bare, washing up thoroughly. He won’t stare, he’s not _that_ kind of person. He’ll just… Look. From the corner of his eye. While he searches for the vial of salve and realizes there’s no way he’ll be able to get all the cuts if he just carelessly drips it on.

(She’s dipping her head under the water and undoing the knot in her hair. When her head reemerges, there’s an adorably satisfied look on her face, reminding Peter of the pretty mermaids he’s recently learned how to please. Mermaid fins are just as transparent and delicate as Tink’s wings… Who’s to say they aren’t also just as sensitive? A theory to put to the test, maybe. _Maybe_.)

Right. The salve. Peter has to visibly shake the thoughts out of his head to focus on trying to find something to apply it with. After some looking around, he finally spots it: a small paintbrush, with soft bristles and a thin, blunt handle that isn’t making it any easier for him to control his far-too-curious mind.

He comes back to the desk to find Tinkerbell standing up in the cup and wringing the excess water out of her hair. Maybe she could have stepped out of it herself, but the sides of the cup come up to her hips and her wings are injured; Peter doesn’t want her to get hurt or spill water all over the desk, so he picks her up himself and lays her back down on the wood. It has absolutely _nothing_ to do with it being one more excuse to touch her. Nothing at _all._

“Here you go.” He smiles sweetly, setting the vial down next to the fairy. “This won’t hurt a bit, don’t you worry.”

The look on Tink’s face is slightly apprehensive, but she lays still anyway, because she _trusts him_. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about his fairy companion. Shame on him. Then again, he wouldn’t do anything _mean_ , right? It would be just like the time he made a mermaid come by sucking on her tits and stroking the fins at the end of her tail. She loved it. He loved it. No losers here.

He’s meticulous when he dips the paintbrush in the salve and gets to work. Wherever there’s a cut, he brushes a drop of salve over it, starting with the nasty one on Tink’s neck and working his way down. Shoulders. Arms. Her hands are pretty banged up, too; she must have grabbed at some thorns directly. Then there’s a cut just above the swell of her perky little breasts, and, well.

Peter is good, but he’s no saint. So what if the brush accidentally slips and strokes over a dark green nipple? It’s just an accident. Of course. An accident that causes the fairy to shiver and then blush intensely.

“It’s okay, Tink.” He chuckles, as if he isn’t rock-hard in his pants. “We’re friends, it’s fine.”

He continues. Down her belly, which he discovers to be delightfully ticklish. Her hips. He skips her pelvis on purpose, going straight to her feet and then back up, calves, knees, thighs, all while Tink’s legs stay resolutely pressed together.

When he breaks the silence between them again, his voice is lower and softer without him even having to try.

“Open your legs, there’s a cut I can’t get to.” There really is one that seems to be taking up quite a bit of her inner thigh, but it’s not the main reason he’s asking. She shakes her head stubbornly, and Peter sighs. “Doesn’t it feel better with the salve? C’mon. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

She hesitates for another moment, but then spreads her legs, and maybe Peter is just imagining things, but her tiny little fairy cunt is _glistening_. Her hand comes down to cover it, but Peter grabs at her wrist with two fingers and stops her, shaking his head.

“You’ll get all the salve off your hands.”

He holds her wrist down beside her, and she could very well use her other hand if she really wanted to cover herself, but she doesn’t. Not even when the bristles just _slightly_ brush up against her center and her little hips move on their own, lifting right up off the desk.

“Easy, Tink.” He’s shameless about staring now. After all, she seems to love it. “We’re almost done. Turn around so I can get your wings.”

This time she doesn’t hesitate. In seconds she’s lying on her stomach, folding her arms under her head in a way that won’t rub off the carefully applied salve, and the look she gives Peter over her shoulder leaves no doubt that she’s as eager as he is.

Peter brushes salve over a cut on her calf, then on the back of her knee, then her lower back. This time, avoiding where she wants him most is more of a game than a sign of any self-restraint he might have had. Then he gets further up, and the first brush of the salve over a translucent wing causes her to jump.

“Does that feel good, Tink? Are your little wings sensitive?”

He’s teasing, but there’s also a bit of genuine concern – she _is_ injured, after all. All that concern flies right off the window when Tinkerbell responds by spreading her legs a little more and nodding eagerly, apparently a lot more concerned about getting off than about the tiny rips in her wings.

And who is Peter to deny her?

His hypothesis was right. Tinkerbell’s wings seem every bit as sensitive as the ends of a mermaid’s fins, judging by how her hips move on their own every time he brushes over one of them. The root of the wings, right underneath her shoulderblades, are apparently the real sweet spot; the slightest brush makes her actually _tremble._

“So pretty.” He coos, leaning closer so his breath tickles the fairy’s little ears. “But we’re all done.”

The face she makes is priceless. Her head lifts straight up off the cradle she’s made with her arms and her eyes are wide and dark with arousal and confusion.

“What? Did you want more?”

When she nods, fairy dust falls onto the desk, making it shimmer.

“I don’t think I should give you what you want, though. Not with the way you’ve been acting lately.” Her mouth opens in indignation, but Peter continues. “Always being mean to Wendy. Trying to pull me away from her. You’ve been a real brat, Tink.”

He doesn’t plan to be _too_ mean. Just a little bit. With his head still so close to the fairy, it’s easy to lean in just a little more and lick at the very spot where her wings meet her skin. She throws her head back and draws in a sharp breath, and _that’s_ when Peter pulls back completely.

“Now, are you gonna stop being nasty?”

Tink nods, a desperate edge to it. He rewards her by tapping her ass lightly with the blunt end of the brush.

“Do you promise?”

She nods again and lifts her hips up for him, basically presenting her wet little pussy like a gift. And Peter, well. There are things he’s still curious about. Do fairies even have a clit? He reaches out a finger to rub in between her legs, and yes, yes they do. The tiniest little bump against the pad of his finger. It’s sensitive, too; the more he touches it, the wetter she gets. Just beneath it, a stretchy little hole, identical to what a human woman would have.

Interesting.

“Open wider.” It’s an order, but spoken gently, and Tink complies as soon as the words come out of his lips. Even though it’s probably unnecessary with how wet she is, he still licks at the handle of the brush for a few seconds to make sure it won’t hurt, then aligns it with her little snatch and pushes the tip inside.

The way the fairy’s body reacts is just gorgeous. She moves in a rhythm, essentially fucking herself on the brush handle, and all that Peter really has to do is hold it still for her. That won’t do, though – she could come just from this, but he wants to be the one to actively _cause_ her orgasm, so he makes good use of his free hand and catches the end of a wing in between his thumb and his index finger. It throws off her entire rhythm, too. Makes her seem torn between chasing more of the pleasure in her wings and in her cunt, a beautiful little lust-dumb fairy completely at Peter’s mercy.

He lightly twists the very end of her wing and she’s done for, trembling through her climax, fairy dust falling just about everywhere.

When Peter pulls the brush out gently, he can’t resist slipping it into his mouth again. She tastes good – just like fairy dust, but stronger, sweeter. He’d get a taste straight from the source if she hadn’t already turned around and sat up.

“Feel better?” He teases, and she nods, but her eyes aren’t on Peter’s face. Rather, she’s looking at his pants in a way that lets him know he’s not the only one that’s curious. “You’re too small to get me off, Tink. Just watch, how ‘bout that?”

God, it feels good to pull his pants down. He’s been straining against them for far too long now, and when he takes his cock in his hand, he gets so into how nice it feels that he totally doesn’t notice Tinkerbell moving until she’s already sitting at the edge of the desk, face to face with Peter’s achingly hard cock.

“Getting a better view, huh?” He smirks down at her. Turns out, she wants a bit more than that. Without asking for permission, she reaches out to touch and ends up rubbing right up against his slit, making him hiss at the sudden burst of sensation.

Peter gets the feeling it’s not the first time she’s done this. Her eyes lock with his as soon as she has her hand on his cock, and there’s a wicked little grin on her face when she starts moving her hand in a circle; it feels like the tip of a tongue teasing at the head of his cock while his hand keeps stroking the length of it. Before he can even register much of it, he’s coming hard, all over his own hand and Tink’s tiny one as well.

Just like Peter did with the brush, she lifts her hand up to her mouth and tastes, even licks her lips afterwards. If he hadn’t just come, that sight alone would have probably done the trick.

When he’s done catching his breath, he glances at the remains of Tinkerbell’s dress on the desk and frowns; it’s probably way beyond fixing at this point.

“I’ll ask Wendy to make you a new dress tomorrow.”

At the mention of Wendy’s name, the fairy wrinkles her nose.

“C’mon, Tink. You and her could be good friends if you just gave her a chance. She’s not trying to take your place, you know.”

He waits for Tink to wash her hands in the same cup she bathed in earlier, then picks her up, sitting her on his shoulder like a parrot as he walks towards his cot. There, he folds up a blanket to make a nest for the fairy and sets her down on it, smiling sweetly at her as he gets ready to sleep too. He wouldn’t dare put her on the bed with him – the chances of him rolling over in his sleep and painfully squishing her are pretty high.

“Besides, it’s not like she _could_ take your place, even if she wanted to. She’s going back home eventually. You and me, we’re forever.”

Tinkerbell makes herself comfortable under a layer of the folded blanket, only her little face peeking out from under it. At the word ‘forever’, she smiles and nods in agreement.

“Just try not to get in trouble again until I wake up, alright?”

Not that he thinks she really will. After all, now he has a much better way to satisfy Tinkerbell’s constant need for attention.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave a comment! It'll be nice to know I'm not alone here, y'all. Thanks for reading!


End file.
